


When I'm Reborn

by syntheticvision



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst, Canon Divergence - Post-Avengers: Endgame (Movie), Dark Steve Rogers, F/M, Gaslighting, Medical Conditions, Medical Experimentation, Munchausen Syndrome by Proxy, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Thanos snap
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-26
Updated: 2021-02-13
Packaged: 2021-03-10 22:34:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 18,892
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28334727
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/syntheticvision/pseuds/syntheticvision
Summary: After Thanos is defeated, the man you’ve loved is stripped of his super-soldier form and returned back to his pre-serum body. As he mourns the loss, Steve turns his ire on you as he copes and searches for a way to turn back to the man he was once was.
Relationships: Steve Rogers/Reader
Comments: 119
Kudos: 153





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Idea is based on this [majestic work of art](https://growingpaynes-art.tumblr.com/post/184050550577/a-concept-ive-been-thinking-about-since-infinity) and by Hozier's 'Shrike'.
> 
> As always, I implore you to read the tags.

Certain things you remembered about Steve could no longer be spoken.

It was the first piece of advice you received upon making it to the compound, Bucky speaking in a hushed tone while your eyes took in the massive building since you woke up. It felt like you had been asleep, something you now understood was due to the snap that decimated half of the world. You’d woken up inside your car, almost as if nothing had happened. Like you had been in a dream.

Lives had been altered. Those lost in the snap came back to find their loved ones had moved on. New marriages, relationships, and bonds were formed, leaving those that came back to reconcile with the past and struggle with the future.

You hadn’t known what to expect when you first received the call. As far as you had last known, Bucky Barnes had been sent to Wakanda to sort out his mind that had been corrupted due to Hydra. Now he stood near the front of the building, the long hair you’d come to recognize in pictures gone, replaced by a much shorter cut.

You hadn’t known what transpired during the battle, only receiving a call when Steve’s phone continued to ring until Bucky had answered.

Steve was alive but the damage had been done. Specifics that Bucky refused to talk about over the phone, instead urging you to come as soon as you could. You had no family left. Steve was your only anchor, a husband you’d married over four years ago, who you loved and adored with all your heart.

“He’s going to look a lot different when you see him,” Bucky cautioned, his mouth set in a thin line as you approached him. “I need you to understand that.”

“I understand,” you said quickly, unsure of why the conversation had suddenly turned tense.

“I mean it. You’re going to look at him and you’ll want to ask questions. You can’t. Whatever you remember about him, you have to understand that he’s going to look different. You have to accept it. Accept him.”

The impassioned plea was made from the heart with a heavy sense of conviction. You heard it in his tone, the way he swallowed down a lump in his throat as he guarded the door, waiting for your response. There had always been an awareness of the ironclad friendship between Steve and Bucky. The trip to Wakanda and Steve’s stay in the African country had been prolonged due to complications with Bucky’s treatment. Hydra had done a number on him, Shuri’s therapy more intense than anticipated and Steve had wanted to be there. You’d understood. Now, as you watched Bucky guard the door, you knew he was doing the same.

“I’ll accept him always,” you promised, Bucky’s gaze softening as he tried to smile at you, placing a hand on your shoulder as he squeezed it gently. It was meant to reassure you but you felt uneasy, still unsure of why you were being given a disclaimer.

“I hope that’s true,” Bucky replied wistfully. “Go on in.”

The anxiety that fluttered in your belly and the anticipation of seeing him did nothing to slow down your heartbeat that was currently jackhammering in your chest. With the push of the heavy door, the beeping of machines caught your attention, a small frame of a body in the hospital bed that made your eyes widen in shock.

The hair was the same, the face smaller, dark circles under closed eyes as the chest rose and fell in shallow spurts. Once strong arms that you remembered holding you tight were bone-thin, pale beyond belief. You hadn’t known you’d held your breath until your body involuntarily shuddered for air, the blue eyes opening as Steve stared back at you, his face quickly registering pain and anger.

“No,” he started to speak, voice thin but growing in volume as the machines beeped louder. “I don’t want her here. Get her out of here, Buck!”

Before you could reply, to plead with him to stay, Bucky appeared like a guardian angel and touched your arm gently as you reeled back at his grasp, your shoes squeaking against the floor.

“I’m sorry,” Bucky apologized, quiet but firm as he held onto your arm that left you little choice but to comply. “Come on, let’s go take a walk. Let him calm down.”

“Get out,” Steve growled, turning his back to you. At the motion of his movement, you saw the outline of his spine and you covered your mouth in surprise. You’d seen pictures of his former frame when he was sickly and smaller. Seeing it in person was jarring with the difference, your manners kicking in to not stare.

“It’s okay,” Bucky soothed, slowly guiding you away from the room and back out into the hallway. “Just let him be for now.”

🧬

Outside of Steve’s room, life continued on around you, agents walking milling around with hushed voices as Bucky guided you outside. The mixed bag of emotions that roiled inside you only made the tears that already appeared on your face multiply, Bucky’s hand on the middle of your back while he continued to walk you toward to a corner overlooking the lake, the sound of the construction crews a jarring background noise as Bucky slowed his steps.

“I know you have questions. I don’t know if I can answer them all but let me try to explain,” Bucky started, his forearms leaning over the railing, shoulders lowered in defeat.

You wiped your eyes, looking on as he sighed. For a moment, you swore there were tears in his gaze.

“During the fight, Thanos tried to wipe us out. He didn’t go after the ones who were snapped. He went after the ones who survived. Natasha with the Soul Stone. Steve with the Reality Stone. He reverted back to how he was before Erksin’s serum. Tony brought us all back but he couldn’t save Nat… couldn’t change Steve back. He died protecting all of us,” Bucky paused, your lungs deflated while you tried to comprehend what your husband was going through. What Pepper was going through.

“He won’t accept that he’s smaller. He’s always had a chip on his shoulder about it, even before he was who he… used to be. You think people are cruel now? It was much worse for Steve back then. People used to take bets on how long he’d live after I left for war,” Bucky scoffed with a sad shake of his head. “The world was never kind to that Steve. He never forgot it. He knows what it’s like to be the little guy. Literally.”

“How do I help him?” Your voice was a hint above a whisper that the wind carried off, thoughts still on how Steve looked in the hospital bed.

“You have to make him feel like nothing has changed when everything has changed. He’s still Steve. Just smaller.”

“Is it permanent?”

Bucky lowered his head, stormy blue eyes downcast, telling you in no words what you had feared.

“As far as we know. It’s too early to tell but Doctor Banner is trying to see if it can be reversed. No one really knows. It was the first thing he asked when he came to.”

“What can I do? I’ll do anything, Bucky, you know I will,” you promised, threading your fingers together to keep them from shaking. “Just tell me what to do to help him feel better.”

“Don’t bring attention to it. Steve knows how to handle himself. He was doing it way before the serum. In the next few days, he’ll be discharged. He’s been talking about staying here.”

At the mention of him staying in the compound, you were silent, looking out at the water to try to comprehend what that meant. He wouldn’t be coming home with you. He hadn’t wanted you in his room and you were certain that also extended to his stay in the compound.

“I know you want to do right by Steve,” Bucky acknowledged. “He knows that. I can’t imagine what he’s going through right now. None of us can. I think you need to give him space to sort out how he feels and let him come to you. Him staying here doesn’t mean he doesn’t love you. I know this is hard to hear.”

“I thought he would be happy to see me.” Your voice was small, borderline on breaking. “I didn’t know I was snapped. I just woke up, like I’d been asleep. I was gone for years and he didn’t even seem fazed that I was there.”

“He’s dealing with trauma too, you know. It isn’t about you,” he admonished, immediately regretting his words at your tears that streamed down your face, your hand covering your mouth. “I’m sorry.”

You turned to leave, to leave the compound and drive. You had no destination in place but it didn’t matter. You’d drive as far as your car would take you. Anything to keep you occupied from the pain that had bloomed in your heart.

“Wait,” Bucky called out behind you. “Don’t go.”

He caught up with you at the top of the stairs, his arm touching yours as you flinched.

“You said to give him space,” you murmured, clutching your coat against your chest. “If you feel that’s best for Steve then… I’ll leave.”

“Let me talk to him, okay? Try to see where he’s at.”

You didn’t look at Bucky, his hand leaving your arm while you headed down the steps and toward the lobby.

🧬

Days turned into a week before Bucky showed up at your door, apologizing for the delay in communication while you offered him a place to sit. He looked around the living room, his eyes settling on the pictures you’d hung up years ago.

“Those will have to come down,” Bucky instructed you gently. “He’s willing to come home but there are some modifications that need to be addressed.”

“Modifications?” you asked, observing him picking up another photo with a shake of his head.

“Any picture you have with him after the serum, I need you to put it away. Dr. Cho says it’ll trigger him and it was hard enough to get him to accept that this is where he needs to be.”

“Oh,” you replied somberly, reaching for a frame that you held carefully in your hands. The picture had been taken weeks before he’d left for Wakanda, Steve holding you close as you both laughed. “Of course. I understand.”

Bucky exhaled loudly, threading his fingers through his dark hair.

“I can help you,” he offered, your face twisting into a frown.

“I can do it,” you countered. “I’ll put them in a box for now.”

Despite the somber task you had to complete, the anticipation of seeing Steve made you hopeful. You were grateful to Bucky for talking to him, your footsteps quickening as you lifted your engagement and wedding pictures from the walls and tables. Bucky examined your work, following you into your bedroom as you held the box to your chest, plucking more photos from the dresser.

“Shit,” Bucky sighed as he opened the closet door. “Clothes need to go. Shoes too.”

You understood. The clothes that he’d collected throughout the years, the ones that fit the Steve that you’d known, would all but fall off of his form now.

“I’ll get a trash bag,” you offered, turning on your heels before you felt Bucky’s hand on your wrist. It was gentle, a silent plea for you to slow down.

“I can get it,” he assured you, flashing you a kind smile that made his blue eyes crinkle. “We’ve got our work cut out for us before he gets here. Let me help.”

You managed a short nod, Bucky disappearing from view. Placing the box inside the closet, away from view and covering it with some shoeboxes, you stepped back inside the bedroom as Bucky held the trash bags in his hands.

“He’s got a lot more clothes than I thought,” Bucky admitted, looking behind you. “Money was always tight for him so it wasn’t uncommon for him to wear the same two or three pairs of pants. He got really good at patching them up. Now there’s got to be like, what, over ten pairs of pants?”

“Maybe more,” you answered, looking behind your shoulder. “Once he found his sizes, it was easier to buy clothes. He loves online shopping. The anonymity of it and all.”

Bucky gave a knowing nod and a small laugh.

“Finally got the hang of the internet, I guess,” Bucky remarked.

“No.”

At your quick reply, you both laughed, the pressure releasing slightly as he stepped into the closet. The super soldier in front of you blew out a long breath before he rolled up his sleeves, the metal arm flashing in the light as he went to work.

You helped remove his shirts and sweaters, stopping for a moment when you felt overwhelmed. The weight of his hand on your shoulder was a comfort, wiping your eyes quickly.

“It feels like he’s dead,” you pointed out, the closet quickly clearing out. “I’m sorry. I know this doesn’t make sense. He’s still here and yet…”

“None of it does,” Bucky agreed. “But nothing makes sense these days.”

Steve’s side of the closet was cleared out, the trash bags moved into the guest bedroom, Bucky reminding you to have hope, that it was only temporary.

“I’ll bring over some new clothes tomorrow,” Bucky assured you, glancing down at his phone as he narrowed his eyes at a notification. “Hang on, okay? I’ll be right back.”

You made one last sweep around the room, turning to the doorway where Bucky stood.

“He’s ready. I’m gonna go pick him up and I’ll bring him back home.”


	2. Chapter 2

Time seemed to stand still, your thumb sliding past the photos on your phone rapidly, the gap in the dates jarring at the sight of the last picture you had taken of the sunrise on the day you were snapped. You had ceased to exist until now, snapping a picture of yourself you took a mere five minutes before, freshly showered and dressed in clothes you couldn’t remember buying in your closet. Bucky had let you know that Steve, Pepper and Natasha had continued to make sure everything had continued on like normal, the bills still paid, and the home you shared cleaned weekly per Pepper’s instructions. Bucky let you know that Steve could not bring himself to sleep in the apartment once you were gone, choosing to spend his days at the compound.  


You’d made dinner, the stew simmering on the stove while you waited for any indication that Bucky and Steve were returning. The TV was on, coverage from the aftermath on every channel, broadcasting the devastation that occurred and the fall out of those who had died that had seemingly come back to life. A government nightmare that was still trying to be sorted through. Even with the captions underneath, you couldn’t focus, your eyes on your phone as you looked through pictures you’d saved of Steve. The ones you couldn’t bring yourself to delete that you'd favorited for easier access.

You’d been drawn to his strength, the way he effortlessly moved, fluid and powerful with every step. You liked the way his muscles rippled when he would reach for an item on the shelf that you knew he placed there, just out of your own grasp before you would ask for help. Sometimes that strength made you afraid, the way his shoulders would tense when you asked for more time together when his job took him away. The world had been in constant need of saving and Steve had made it clear that protecting the world was his priority. It was what he was meant to do, he'd remind you ever so often.  


There were never arguments between you. Only questions that Steve would answer, his explanations leaving little margins left for discussion. It wasn’t that he was hard to please but more so that he was set in his ways, used to being in charge and he knew little of what it meant to be in a partnership, in a marriage. He knew how to take care of you and for a while, that had been enough. Your needs had been met, birthdays, anniversaries, and special occasions were never missed. Spontaneity was missing. You knew that now, in the way you glanced around the spacious penthouse you shared. Everything was classic, nothing too out of the ordinary. Steve was never ready for anything new.

At the sound of the key in the door, your head turned slowly toward the sound, blinking slowly to see Steve open the door. You resisted the urge to stand up and rush toward him, Bucky following behind while Steve’s eyes swept over the living room, his head barely lifting to gaze at the bare walls. His mouth was formed into a frown, his thin face washed out from the lights above. His clothes were new, a black sweater over a pair of gray slacks and boots that fit his new and yet old, frame. You could still make out his frail form as he cleared his throat, mumbling to Bucky who gave a short nod and punched the buttons on the thermostat. Within seconds, the heat began to seep through the vents, and you swallowed hard at the embarrassment that rose up in your chest. You should have known that he would have been cold. His body was much smaller now, no longer the furnace that kept you warm at night.

Bucky went back to the door, holding bags from various stores that he brought in as Steve stood, eyes transfixed on the TV as if he hadn’t noticed you sitting there.

“Steve,” Bucky started to say, Steve’s eyes finally settling on you. “She’s been waiting for you.”

You inched toward the edge of your seat on the couch, tears forming in your eyes as he looked away in embarrassment.

“You made dinner,” Steve said quietly, with a small inhale of his nose. “Smells good.”

“I-I did,” you responded, getting up slowly. “Would you like some? It’s beef stew. Might warm you up from the cold.”

“Like in the old days,” Steve clipped with a shake of his head. “Nothing’s changed.”

You looked at Bucky questioningly, your hands pressed against your thighs. You wanted to hug him, to tell him everything was going to be okay.

“I missed you, Steve,” you countered quietly, slowly moving from the couch to stand.

For a moment, you saw life in his eyes again, the upturn of his lips briefly but enough for you to know that he responded in a way that was wholly his own, in this other body. Reserved but with a hint of compassion.

“I missed you too. I didn’t know if I was ever going to see you again,” Steve started to speak, his jaw clenching, his emotions closing up his throat. “You aren’t supposed to see me like this.”

“I don’t care,” you urged, unsure if you could take a step closer as Bucky made his way down the hallway, disappearing from view. “You’re still Steve.”

“No,” Steve snapped, his hands on his thin hips as he looked around the room. “Not who I used to be. I was supposed to be the man that you saw before… before Thanos did what he did. I helped save the world and look at what it cost me.”

His shuddered breath of defeat hurt your heart.

“You’re still here,” you reminded him gently. “I know it doesn’t seem fair. It isn’t fair. But you saved us. All of us.”

“Nat’s gone. Tony too. Should have been me.” His voice held no emotion, his eyes still scanning the walls.

“I’m happy you’re still here,” you offered earnestly. “I’ll go set the table. Maybe Bucky will want to stay for dinner.”

“Bucky would love to,” Bucky answered you, the crinkle of the bags under his arms getting your attention as he rounded the corner.

You busied yourself in the kitchen, doling out the stew in three bowls with bottles of beer for Steve and Bucky and a glass of water for yourself. Pepper had stocked your fridge, leaving you a little note of encouragement. You vowed to pay her back, knowing she was probably just as lonely as you were. You felt guilty, placing the pitcher of water back into the fridge. Steve came home. Tony didn’t.

Hushed voices in the living room seemed to quiet at your presence, Steve looking back at the television while Bucky got to his feet.

“Dinner’s on the table,” you announced, chewing on your lip slightly while Bucky nudged Steve with his leg.

“Come on, punk. Gotta eat,” Bucky urged.

“Or else what? I’ll be skin and bones?” Steve asked sarcastically.

You sucked in a breath, turning around at the sight of Bucky’s irritated expression, his gray-blue eyes focused on Steve. 

“Steve,” Bucky warned behind you. “Let’s just go eat, okay?”

You sat at the table as they both approached, one on either side of you as Bucky dug in and Steve picked up his spoon. You ate slowly in silence, the sound of the spoons barely tapping the bowls until Bucky cleared his throat.

“Thanks for this,” he spoke up with a meaningful look at Steve. “I actually haven’t had a home cooked meal since we came back. You really take for granted what you have until it’s gone.”

“Yeah,” Steve spoke up with a slight movement of his head. “This is nice. You didn’t have to do this. 

“It’s okay. I wanted to do it,” you reminded them, grateful to have both of them at the table. “I forgot that I liked to cook. To have someone to cook for.”

Bucky gave you a reassuring smile as you ate slowly, wondering how the rest of the night would play out. Would he share the same bed with you or keep you at a distance? When the bowls were emptied, you got to your feet and collected them, heading to the sink to wash the dishes, turning the faucet on. The sound of chairs rumbling against the floor behind you caught your attention, the sound of shuffling feet and hushed voices leaving you behind. The water splashed over your fingers, cold but slowly moving to room temperature as your mind wandered.

Eight years of marriage, you thought to yourself, the water still spilling over your hands as you gripped a bowl in your hand. Five years in between the last that you had missed. On your third anniversary, Steve gifted you with a freshwater pearl necklace and you wondered if it was still sitting in your jewelry box. He’d surprised you with it during dinner, fastening it himself as he kissed your cheek. Those were happier times. The way he covered you with his jacket when the cold breeze made your teeth shatter and how he wrapped it around you and kept you close. You still remembered how it felt under your fingertips, your wet fingers pressing against the bowl.

“I’m going to bed,” a voice said behind you.

The sound made you jump, the bowl shattering in the sink, the steam from the scalding hot water curling in front of you. Steve reached over quickly, shutting off the faucet as Bucky rounded the corner to see you both standing at the sink.

Your palms were bright red at the high temperature, throbbing while you reached for the broken pieces of the bowl in the sink. Steve’s hand blocked yours from reaching for a sliver. You focused on how small it was now, the way the sink came to the middle of his chest instead of at his waist.

“Everything okay?” Bucky asked, your head turning toward him with tears in your eyes.

“I broke a bowl,” you informed him, looking back at Steve and the shattered pieces in the sink forlornly. “I can clean it up.”

“Just get her out of here,” Steve demanded. “I can move around my own place, you know. I know how to clean up a mess.”

“Steve,” you whispered, your hands still burning with pain.

“I said I got it,” he snapped, slightly dipping up on his toes to collect the pieces of the broken bowl. “I wasn’t helpless before and I’m not now.”

With heavy steps you moved away from the kitchen, Bucky sliding his arm around your shoulder as he inspected your hands.

“Let’s get something for those burns,” he suggested, walking behind you while you went inside the bathroom and pulled out numbing cream, something you’d bought when Steve would come home from missions, still sore as his body was regenerating. You could still hear Steve's relieved sighs, the way his body relaxed at your touch.

Bucky watched you from the doorway, the cream soothing you almost instantly as you struggled to put the cover back on the jar.

“I got it,” Bucky offered, screwing the lid back before placing it back inside the cabinet. “It’s going to be a rough few days but it'll be okay. He just needs to get adjusted.”

You nodded, fresh tears pooling in your eyes.

“Did you see his chain?” Bucky asked, switching off the light while you reached the bed, looking at the empty space next to you.

When you shook your head, Bucky looked outside the door to make sure Steve was not there, the water still running before Bucky inhaled lightly.

“His wedding band doesn’t fit anymore, obviously. But he put it on the chain on his dog tags to keep it close to him. He won’t tell you that, not now but it’s there. Thought you’d want to know. I saw it while we were trying to get him clothes earlier.”

Your lower lip trembled violently, your fingers gripping the comforter.

“Can you stay tonight? The guest bedroom is clean,” you promised, your voice wavering with the incoming cry that you were trying to suppress.

“I’ll double check with Steve but if that helps then yeah, I don’t mind. Just lay down. It’s been a long day for both of you.”

Once the door closed in, you could hear their voices, the faucet shutting off as you remembered what it was like to have the body next to you in the bed. You turned on your side, reminiscing about the outline of how he would sleep, arm outstretched to have you snuggle closer. An anchor even in the sleepy hours of the night, keeping you afloat when your thoughts got away from you.

Sleep seeped into your eyelids before you heard a door close down the hall. There was a low cough and your eyes fluttered open. It was a sound you’d never heard before from Steve, deep in his chest as he moved through the darkened room, his eyes squinting as he walked slowly. He pulled off his sweater, heading into the closet while the soft rustle of clothes kept you still until he reemerged in a t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants that still seemed to hang off of him, despite the smaller size.

“Are you going to stay here tonight?” you asked him, his steps paused at the sound of your voice.

He cleared his throat before he looked over his shoulder.

“Yeah. Gotta take my medication first.”

He disappeared into the bathroom, the sound of the cabinet opening and the rattle of pills was overheard. The small puff of the inhaler made you push your face deeper into the pillow. All sounds you’d have to get used to hearing. The new normal.

Once he reached the bed, he sunk himself down and laid out on his back, much like he did when he was bigger, though there was no arm outstretched to bring you toward him, his eyes looking up at the ceiling. He was safe now, back home and under the same roof. You couldn’t help yourself with your question, still keeping your distance in case he denied you.

“Steve? Can… can I hug you?

Braced for rejection, your arms stayed at your sides, body ceasing any motion until Steve turned toward you. His arms outstretched slowly and you took the invitation, drawing close to his thin chest. His heart fluttered and you remembered his palpitations, squeezing your eyes shut as a tear ran down your cheek. Though he didn’t embrace you like he’d done before, you were grateful for this small allowance. You pulled the blankets around you both, focusing on his breathing before you said your final words before you went to sleep.

“I’m so glad you’re home.”


	3. Chapter 3

“What was your relationship like with Steve before the snap?”

The cushy leather chair you had been sitting in felt like it was about to swallow you whole. Dr. Stephen Strange, former neurosurgeon turned sorcerer, sat across from you, waiting for your answer. Or as he had aptly introduced himself, ‘a new-age therapist’ for the time being. The change in his title was meant to keep you calm, watching on as the man in front of you tented his hands over his desk. Pepper had urged you to go to this appointment, your phone filled with upcoming sessions.

“Good,” you responded. “Normal.”

“I highly doubt that. You are married to an enhanced super-soldier. Normal shouldn’t be in your vocabulary,” Strange snipped. “There had to be disagreements.”

“There were. Sometimes I asked for more than he could give.”

“Could or wanted? Those are two different things. When time is involved, people make time for what is important in their lives. So, he _could_ have made time, implying he could clear his schedule or _wanted_ to make time but something more important was in the way, making that a priority. Both bring up negative connotations, which is why I ask. Which one would you prefer to use to lie to yourself?”

You stared right into Strange’s eyes, his shoulders lifting in a slow shrug. It was a valid thought, one that you didn’t want to flesh out any further. But these sessions that were scheduled were supposed to help you and you needed to be honest with yourself.

“He wanted to. But he was always busy. Sokovia happened while we were dating and when he came back, he asked me to marry him. He said that he didn't want to wait any longer. I guess I thought that we’d have more time to ourselves but the world kept getting bigger. More dangerous.”

“How was your communication? Was it easy to talk through your problems? Did you talk about what bothered you?”

Your silence was enough for him to gain his answer. Strange shook his head, a lock of dark brown hair slipping over his forehead.

“Without communication, relationships never last. Yours is already complicated as it is. Between his current form and you still trying to get adjusted from returning from the snap, I think you need to reevaluate your feelings.”

“On what?” you asked, unsure of what he was alluding to.

“The past. Whatever it was, glean lessons from it and leave it in the past. For your present, make peace with it because it’s in the now and for your future, use the lessons you learned.”

“You just said to leave it in the past,” you argued, Strange’s face twisting into irritation as he rolled his eyes.

“Leave the _feelings_ in the past. The hurt, the sadness, the lack of communication. Whatever baggage you’re holding onto, you need to free it. You died, remember? Ceased to exist for five years. Steve and others had to contend with it. We all came back like ghosts, expecting things to be the same. They aren’t.”

With a sigh, Strange plucked a tissue from the box in his drawer and handed it to you, looking away while you wiped your eyes.

“I don’t know what you are going through but I do know that you can’t expect everything to be the same. Can’t expect Steve to act normal when nothing about that man is normal. You can’t expect to act normal because you’ve been gone for years, a memory now materialized, and trying to act like you can continue on as nothing happened. Give yourself and Steve a break. We’ll dive deeper into our sessions in a few weeks but I say this with all due respect. You need to have patience. Things aren’t going to change overnight.”

🧬

Turning the lock on the door, you heard the sound of the TV, the narrator of a documentary as explosions blared through the soundbar. Steve was hunched forward on the couch, eyes focused on the screen as the various lights from the television flickered across his face. Lost in his own world, he didn't acknowledge you.

“A symbol to the nation. A hero to the world. The story of Captain America is one of honor, bravery and sacrifice,” the narrator spoke, Steve’s head nodding in response.

Your purse dropped down into the chair, Steve still transfixed on the screen.

“Denied enlistment due to poor health, Steven Rogers was chosen for a program -”

“Steve,” you called out, coming to stand next to the couch as he picked up the remote and pressed pause, a picture of him frozen on the TV, in his white shirt and dog tags from the 40s. The exact same face that was on the screen looked at you now.

“Dr. Cho said you shouldn’t watch that,” you attempted to remind him, his eyes narrowing at you.

“What she doesn’t know isn’t going to kill her. Back already from your appointment?”

“Introductory session. Wasn’t too long. Are you hungry?” you asked, hoping he'd take you up on your offer.

“A little,” Steve answered, finger still on the button, as if he was waiting for you to leave.

“Okay, I’ll make us something for lunch. Is Bucky still here?”

“No. I told him to go home. He had some training thing to do with Sam.” His voice sounded bitter but you didn't pry.

You nodded while you walked past him, the TV playing once more. 

“One that would transform him into the world’s first super-soldier,” the narrator continued, your eyes looking back at a picture of him from his transformation decades ago that you had come to know him as. What the world had known him to be.

“That’s what I want,” Steve said quietly, tossing the remote onto the coffee table. “To be him again.”

“You’re still Cap,” you insisted, turning to face him, his lips set in a hard line. “Remember what Dr. Erksine told you.”

“Yeah and he didn’t have to fight the battles that I did. The ones I’d lose now if I had been in this body,” he shot back.

Remembering what Strange had told you, you left him alone, focusing on making lunch for the two of you while you tried to sort out your memories. You’d seen the wedding ring on his chain that hung from his neck, your thoughts going to Bucky’s words and how Steve had placed it there to keep it close. There was still hope that he’d understand and accept his changes and if Strange was right then you needed to be patient.

You busied yourself boiling water and adding the pasta, searching the cabinets for a jar of sauce. You couldn’t help but wonder who had tossed out all of the expired items in the cabinets. Had it been Pepper? Or had it been Steve? You reached for a jar of marinara, half-heartedly reading the ingredients.

He used to cook for you. On those days when you’d come home, exhausted from another rough but productive day, you’d hear the pan pulled from the stove, the closing of the fridge before you kicked off your shoes. He’d been so interested in cooking, he told you, ever since he had come out of the ice. Different spices, different ways of roasting, frying - air frying, even - made him excited and curious to try. You remembered the way he’d look at your face, that nervous smile as his blue eyes watched you take a bite, and how his smile would spread when you complimented him.

You drained the pasta, keeping a small bit of the pasta water in the pan with a handful of flour before you mixed in the sauce in the pan. Countless hours of watching cooking channels had gotten you inspired.

The sound of Steve coughing got your attention, the labored breathing alarming you as you turned off the burner and headed toward the living room.

“Steve? Are you okay?”

His face was turning pink, his hand on his chest as he coughed harder. You knew what it was and you ran toward the bathroom to grab his inhaler.

When you handed it to him, he snatched it away and you heard the small puff of the aerosol spray. He ripped it away from his mouth, placing it on the table as he tried to steady his breathing.

“Do you need anything? I can get you some water.” You kneeled down to inspect him, to make sure everything was okay.

“Don’t,” Steve managed between breaths. “Leave me alone.”

By instinct, you reached out, trying to smooth the hair that had fallen over his forehead that was beginning to show signs of perspiration from his exertion.

“I said I’m fine!” Steve shouted, pushing your arm away roughly.

As he did so, you stumbled backward, your arm hitting the side of the coffee table hard. The impact was loud, the table shaking as you gasped at the pain that shot through your arm, cradling it as you looked at him tearfully.

In tears, you shakily pulled yourself up as you headed to the closest room, intent on getting away from him.

“Wait,” Steve called behind you, his voice thin. “I’m sorry!”

You closed the door, locking it behind you while you wept, still holding your injured arm. You heard his footsteps at the door, the knock making you take a step back.

“Please come out,” Steve asked you, his voice muffled by the door. “Let me apologize.”

You sat at the edge of the bed, looking at the shadow of his form under the door, your arm still throbbing with pain.

“Please, sweetheart.”

You stared at the door numbly before you laid on your side, stuffing a pillow under your injured arm, the lunch you had made forgotten as more tears welled in your eyes.

🧬

“Hey sunshine,” Bucky said above you, your eyes blinking to adjust to the light. He had a hint of a smile on his lips, almost sympathetic if you hadn't known any better.

“Bucky? How did you get in here?” you asked sleepily, your arm still propped up on the pillow.

“Steve called me. Told me what happened. There’s a little key at the top of the doorway that he can’t reach anymore. Are you alright?”

You shook your head, the heaviness in your chest returning at how Steve had looked at you before he had pushed you away. He hadn’t meant to hurt you. You knew that in the way he’d froze, eyes wide with surprise. How he’d come quickly to the door to make sure you were okay.

None of that mattered at the moment. He’d never been that angry before.

“It’s okay if you aren’t okay, you know. You don’t have to see him right now. I told him you probably need some space. He understands it. I think,” Bucky advised, his gaze going to your arm. “He’s shaken up about it. But it’s not about him. It’s about you. How are you feeling?”

“He’s never been that angry,” you whispered, fighting back tears. “He was so upset with me.”

Bucky nodded, his lips pursed together as he let out a low sigh.

“Still no excuse for pushing you away. I thought he’d relax but he’s not getting better,” Bucky admitted, sitting down on the bed next to you. “Do you need some time away from him?”

You shook your head, still trying to form words to Bucky’s comments. Perhaps Bucky could convince him to see Dr. Cho. She would know what to do.

“He’s just scared,” you answered, Bucky’s face trained on you.

“You both are. You know you can tell me if you need some time away. We can bring him back to the compound, maybe some more visits with Dr. Cho might help. He’s angry but we have to get it under control. We figured he’d lash out. We just weren’t sure when. Sounds like the asthma attack did it.”

“He hasn’t had to deal with it before," you tried to defend.

Bucky swallowed hard, his hand reaching out to squeeze your ankle gently as he blinked away tears. The soldier in front of you looked fragile now, his eyes distant.

“A long time ago, he thought he could fight these guys. Being disrespectful to this lady coming home from her job as a janitor. Just sayin’ awful stuff about her and Steve got involved. They beat him into an asthma attack. He could have died in the street if it wasn’t for the woman coming to help him. It was worse in those days. He’s got an inhaler now. What I’m trying to say is that it probably triggered him. Someone coming to help him and him thinking he’s fine when he isn’t,” Bucky informed you.

“Is he okay?”

“Yeah, he’s fine, physically. Mentally, he’s still shaken up. He thinks you’re going to leave him.”

“I wouldn’t,” you insisted, tears welling in your eyes. “It was an accident. I know that.”

“It’s more than just the accident. He knows he’s struggling. You’ve always been his girl, you know. He needs you. Needs to know you still care. I know you won’t abandon him.”

“I wouldn’t,” you promised. “Never.”

“Bucky?” Steve asked behind the closed door. “Is she okay?”

“Do you want to see him? I can tell him you need to rest.”

Without missing a beat, you nodded. You could apologize to him, let him know you didn’t mean to make it worse. Be patient, just like Strange had told you to be.  


Bucky rose from the bed, opening the door slightly as Steve held a cup in his hand. At the sight of you, he attempted a small smile as Bucky let him enter. Their size difference was made even more noticeable when Steve moved past him.

“Made you some tea,” Steve offered. "Thought it might help you feel better."

Bucky looked back at you and then at Steve, looking at his watch.

“I forgot I need to call Sam. I’ll leave you two alone.”

Once the door closed, Steve stood in place, trying to think of what to say as his eyes locked onto your arm. He seemed afraid to approach you.  


“Does it still hurt?”

You couldn’t lie to him.

“It’s a little sore,” you replied, watching his face fall at your answer.

“I’m sorry. I know that doesn’t begin to cover it but I’m sorry, I never meant to hurt you. I just lost it and I shouldn’t have let my anger get that bad. I messed up.”

He placed the tea on the nightstand, his body sinking into the mattress to help you up, carefully avoiding your arm. At his touch, you felt the tears coming, his hands propping up the pillows behind you before he handed you your tea.

“I added extra honey to it, just the way you like it,” he emphasized, watching you hold the cup in your hands. “Try it.”

“Thank you, Steve,” you whispered to him, tipping the cup to your lips. It tasted slightly bitter at first until there was a burst of sweetness from the honey.

“Good?” Steve asked you nervously, pulling the blankets up over you.

“Yeah, it’s good,” you confirmed, holding the cup in your lap.

“Gotta finish it all. It’ll help you relax.”

Steve waited until you downed the cup with a slow nod, adjusting the pillows behind you. He sat with you, his hand over yours as he inhaled a shaky breath.

“I’m going to be better for you,” he promised with a hard nod. “No more sadness. You’ve been trying to help me since I came home. When the snap happened, I thought I’d lost you forever. I was broken.”

His eyes were glassy at the mention of you leaving, finally acknowledging that it had affected him. You heard him sniffle, trying to clear his throat as his thin arms pulled you closer toward him. The act alone was enough to overwhelm you, his face nuzzling against yours.

“I’ll be good for us. Gonna be the hero you deserve, sweetheart. I love you,” Steve professed. “Just rest. I’m here.”


	4. Chapter 4

Your stomach was in knots as you wiped your mouth, wishing the nausea would go away. There was nothing left to give, the retching painful as it made you shiver. The harsh light in the bathroom hurt your eyes and your hand slid up to the switch with what remaining strength you had left, while you heard Steve behind you.

“I bought you some seltzer and crackers,” Steve informed you quietly, your eyes closing in relief as the lights were turned off by his hand. “Probably a stomach bug. Let’s get you out of these clothes and into bed.”

Steve had been at your bedside since you woke up from your nap, surprised to see him still there when you opened your eyes. It had been a mad dash to the bathroom, your stomach roiling before you barely made it, dropping to your knees and clutching the toilet bowl as you purged whatever you had left in your body. The nausea made you shudder, your nose sniffling as your eyes teared up.

He helped you to your feet, small arms gripping your upper arm to steady you while you tried your best not to lean against him, in the fear that you would topple both of you over. The walk down to your shared bedroom was torture. Your limbs were heavy, your stomach sore from the amount of muscle contractions and your lips were chapped. You desperately wanted to brush your teeth, eyeing your bathroom as Steve helped you inside the room.

You were grateful to have him there. Without him, you were sure you would still be sitting on the bathroom floor, hoping that your sickness would go away. He helped you out of your clothes, helping you lift your arms as he put on a fresh t-shirt. Your body was sore, arms dropping to your sides onto the bed as you leaned back against the pillows, Steve lifting your legs carefully onto the bed.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered to him, his hand sweeping his hair off his forehead before he shook his head.

“Don’t be sorry. I’m sorry. I don’t know what to do,” Steve admitted, dropping down next to you gently. “I always have a plan. I don’t have one now. How can I? Everything I knew, everything I was, is gone.”

“It isn’t gone,” you responded gently. “The body is gone, the framework of what you became disappeared. But you’re still you. They can’t make people do what’s right. That comes from you. It always has.”

“I don’t feel like that guy. Not now. That guy, who led a team and could do anything, go anywhere? He’s gone and replaced with this. Endless doctor’s appointments and a sea of medication. I know you moved your things under the sink to make room for my pills. I’m on medication schedule, not even my own,” Steve breathed harshly. “It’s worse now than when it was back in the 40s. One pill now means I take four more to offset whatever other side effects it has. Makes me remember how vulnerable I used to be all over again.”

The sadness and anger in his voice made you reach for him, your hand slowly finding his as you gripped it. Steve’s poor circulation meant his hand was freezing when you took it, goosebumps trailing up your arms at the feel of it.

“It’ll work out, Steve. You just have to…” you trailed off; your body tired.

“What’s the matter?” Steve’s voice was filled with concern, his other hand closing on top of yours.

“Tired,” you managed to reply, your eyes closing. “I’ve been up all night.”

“Rest,” Steve urged, pulling up the blankets and tucking them around you. “I’m going to call Bruce and see if he has any news. I’ll come check in on you in a little.”

🧬

Steve’s voice woke you as you heard him pace the hallway. You didn’t move, save for stretching out your arms and legs to see if they were still sore. There was some lingering ache but sleep had made you feel better.

“I appreciate the offer, Pepper. I really do,” Steve quipped as he passed the slightly opened door.

You pulled yourself up slowly, head still spinning slightly before you closed your eyes to settle yourself.

“I’d rather be out there. Yes, I’ll think it over again but I don’t think my position on it will change. Yes, I’ll let you know.”

You heard him sigh before he pushed the door open to see you sitting on the bed.

“You’re up,” Steve observed with surprise. “How are you feeling?”

“Better. Just a few aches. Is everything okay? You sounded upset.”

Steve frowned, looking down at the phone in his hand.

“Pepper wants me to become a consultant. Sit in all the meetings, come up with ideas and plans for the team.”

“That sounds good,” you reasoned, Steve’s eyes narrowing at you. It was obvious that it was not a good idea by how he was staring.

“All the paperwork and no action. I’d rather fight but that’s off the table. She feels I’d be best utilized somewhere safe. I’ve never like safe. She means protected. I’m used to being the protector.”

“Maybe it’s just for a little? You haven’t forgotten how to fight. You’ve led them before, you know what to do and you’ve always been so great at analyzing any threats. Consultant might be a good start to get back in.”

“No,” Steve denied quickly. “I know Rhodes put her up to it. None of them will call and ask outright. It used to be me leading the team. It isn’t anymore. Sounds like Bucky and Sam are taking over. That didn’t last long.”

Steve’s watch chimed and he looked down at in in disgust.

“Medication time,” he said sourly, heading into the bathroom. “Be back in a minute.”

The door closed and you heard the familiar rattle of pills before the cabinet closed loudly, Steve muttering to himself. With a push, you lifted yourself up to stand. You needed a shower and to brush your teeth so you could feel human again.

When Steve came out, you shuffled past him slowly, wincing at the ache in your stomach as you moved.

“Everything okay?” he asked you, his hand reaching out to steady you.

“Just sore,” you answered. “I was going to take a shower.”

“If you’re sore, a bath might help,” Steve suggested, heading into the bathroom with you as he opened the bottom cabinet under the sink. “I think there’s some bath salts in here. I, uh, kept buying them in case… in case you came back.”

He didn’t allow you respond, putting the glass jar from the rack and holding up to inspect the label.

“Still good. I’ll run you a bath, why don’t you get some clothes ready? Bucky’s supposed to come over. If you don’t feel well, I can tell him he can come another time.”

At the mention of Bucky, you brightened. Maybe he would be able to talk some sense in Steve about taking the consultant job but you didn’t want to push it any further. With a slow nod, you backed out of the bathroom, hearing the bathtub faucet turn on.

You picked through the closet, unsure of what you wanted to wear. Your head felt foggy still and you pulled out a pair of black yoga pants and a green sweater to look presentable. The closet looked a lot differently now. Steve’s clothes took up residence next to yours but the items he used to place on the shelves, when he was taller, had now found their way to a place more acceptable for him to reach. The mirror had been moved into one of the spare bedrooms, most likely by Bucky when he had come to help you move Steve’s former clothes to the other room. That mirror was the one Steve used to always make sure he looked presentable, a soldier through and through. A party at Tony’s meant he needed to get his cufflinks perfect and he’d spent long moments checking his suit in that mirror to make sure it was right, until you had come over and told him that it was perfect.

That he was perfect.

Now the space where the mirror had been placed was filled with boxes from Steve’s office, more memorabilia that was marked as archives but you knew better. More pictures, more reminders of who Steve used to be. In that bigger body that had now disappeared.

“Bath’s ready,” Steve piped up behind you, making you jump.

“Okay,” you responded, pulling a set of underwear and a bra from your drawer. “Be right there.”

Though you closed in the door, you were still shocked as Steve knocked quietly.

“Can I come in?”

“Sure,” you answered, unsure why you were so quiet and apprehensive. He was the same Steve, the one who you brushed your teeth alongside, sharing the shower when he would pull you in with him from time to time or sneaking in behind you because he had a few extra minutes before he needed to get ready to go to work.

You lowered yourself into the tub, the hot water snaking around your skin as the door opened. Steve held a fluffy towel in his arms that he placed on the counter.

“How’s the water?”

“Good,” you replied, the heat calming your aching legs. You reached for the body wash when Steve beat you to it, holding it in his hands as he looked down at you.

“Can I help?”

You didn’t need the help. You were capable of doing it on your own but you wondered if he was still trying to make amends for what happened the day prior. Or if he was trying to reconcile with how closed off he had been. Either way, you felt yourself nod as he got to his knees, reaching for your washcloth as he wrung out the excess water before he pooled the body wash into the material, the sweet-smelling fragrance filling the air.

With a gentle hand, Steve moved the washcloth over your shoulder and down your arm, scrubbing carefully as you looked ahead at the faucet. You felt you should say something. Anything to fill the space between you.

“You didn’t seem overly happy that Bucky was coming over,” you began, the washcloth moving down your back in slow circles.

“Not really. Feel like he’s hovering,” Steve admitted, motioning for you to move so that he could get your other side. He seemed to scrub harder as he went deeper into his thoughts. “He used to do that back then. Always making sure I was doing the right thing. He’s checking on us both, I guess.”

He lifted your arm gently, your body swaying slightly as he washed under your arms. You lowered your arm, trying to smile as you shook yourself out of your stupor.

“I can get it,” you reminded him softly, taking the washcloth from his hand. “Not helpless yet.”

“I just wanted to help,” Steve shot back, leaning back. “Didn’t think a shower together would work.”

“You can still help,” you insisted, trying to finish as you poured water over yourself and wrung out the washcloth once more. “I didn’t mean to make you feel bad. I just… I don’t know. Not a big bath person.”

“You used to be.”

Your eyes lifted up to his as he picked up the washcloth, squeezing more body wash onto it as he motioned for you to lift your leg. You complied, not wanting to make him upset.

“I was?”

“A while ago, yeah. That’s why I’d bought all those soaks and salts for you. It was your ‘me’ time as you called it,” Steve reminded you, pausing for a moment. “You had a lot of that.”

You shook your head at his comment, trying to remember if that was true. You worked, yes. But the majority of your time was spent at home and from what you could remember, it was always about trying to spend time with Steve.

“I did? I don’t remember,” you confessed, still trying to think of any little inkling that would come.

“It was fine. I understood it.”

You lifted your other leg for him, his breath warm against your wet skin.

“It wasn’t easy for a little while. Tony kept pushing for more peace and security and that meant we were chasing leads around all corners of the earth. You saw what happened to Pepper and Tony. You didn’t want that for us.”

Steve’s hand dipped down into the water, the washcloth coming up to your collarbone as he continued on.

“I was afraid I’d lose you,” Steve continued, the washcloth circling your breasts and down your ribcage. “I did anyway.”

“I came back,” you affirmed, sucking in a breath as his fingers circled around your nipple. “Steve…”

He leaned down to kiss you, your lips meeting his briefly before he broke the kiss, exhaling loudly.

“I haven’t done that in so long,” Steve muttered to himself, moving forward to kiss you once more, harder than before. His mouth pressed against your own, demanding and rough.

Unprepared for the intensity, you pulled away, watching the anger flicker back in his gaze as he dropped the washcloth into the bath, the splash deafening in the quiet space.

“You don’t want me?” Steve asked you, his fingers curling into fists as his sides.

“No,” you pleaded, trying to reach out for him. “No, that isn’t it. Steve, please. I just wasn’t prepared.”

“You didn’t need to be before,” he shot back, getting to his feet. “Forget it.”

He left you before you had a chance to stop him, your eyes filling with tears at the thought of hurting him.

You finished washing, rinsing yourself off quickly before you got dressed, brushing your teeth and fixing your hair before you cleaned the bathroom, giving yourself and Steve some time.

Despite how you were feeling, you looked like yourself again, attempting a smile in the mirror to make yourself feel better when you saw Steve come in.

“Figured you’d want some tea.”

You accepted it from him, his eyes still downcast as you took a sip. It was spearmint, your favorite kind and you placed it on the nightstand as Steve wandered into the closet to change.

“Steve, I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings. I haven’t kissed you in five years,” you tried to point out, a tear slipping down your cheek. “When it finally happened, I just wasn’t prepared for how I would feel. It wasn’t bad. I wanted more but it was so fast.”

Steve’s head peeked through the door, his narrow features staring back at you.

“I guess I got carried away. It’s been so long that I just couldn’t help it,” Steve sighed, disappearing back into the closet. “I keep messing this up.”

“You aren’t,” you promised, taking another sip of your tea. It calmed you and you wanted to finish the rest. “It’s fine. We’re going to be fine. You said so yourself.”

“I know,” Steve called out, the sound of hangers rustling inside the closet. “I’m just getting impatient.”

You yawned, lowering yourself back down on the bed as he came out in a pair of pants and a button up shirt.

“Sleepy?” Steve asked, coming over to check on you. “You must be really tired.”

“Mhm,” you agreed, closing your eyes. “That bath and the tea… just feeling warm. I wanted to see Bucky but I’m so sleepy.”

Steve leaned down to kiss you gently, a smile lifting on the corners of your lips as your body relaxed.

“Have a good sleep, sweetheart. I’ll tell Bucky you said hi,” Steve promised softly.

🧬

Steve was still not used to the fact that Bucky was taller than him again. He ignored the jealousy that surged through him as Bucky moved through the doorway, his broad shoulders moving with every step.

“Pepper said you turned down the job,” Bucky began, looking through the living room. “You sure you want to do that?”

“Positive. I’d be a glorified secretary, Buck. That’s not who I am. You know what.”

Bucky shook his head at Steve’s response. His best friend for decades, Bucky knew him well. This chip on his shoulder was getting bigger.

“Where is she?” Bucky asked, Steve moving into the kitchen.

“Asleep.”

Bucky raised an eyebrow at his answer.

“At this hour?”

Steve opened the door of the fridge with a hard exhale, pulling out two beers.

“Yes, at this hour. She’s been through a lot, remember? The snap? Coming back and seeing me like this?”

“Steve, nobody blames you for either of those things. I came back and so did she. We’ll find a way to get you back to where you were. Bruce is still looking at all the options. We aren’t giving up,” Bucky reminded him, Steve plopping down into a chair.

“Yeah, I know. But now what? I sit and wait?”

“You have options. You just don’t like them. There’s a difference,” Bucky pointed out. “Sit and wait or wait and see while still helping us save the world.”

“Sounds like you don’t need me anymore. I know what it’s like to save the world. I saved you once, remember?”

Bucky finished the last swig of his beer, placing the bottle back down hard onto the table. The action didn’t scare Steve. He’d never grown up fearing Bucky and he wasn’t going to start now.

“Why are you so keen to fight? Ever since you were denied enlist it, you always had something to prove, even when you said you didn’t,” Bucky argued. His cheeks puffed out a hard breath. “Stubborn.”

“At least I’m consistent. I’d rather stay home and take care of her than be the Avengers lackey. She needs me. That night when she… when I pushed her away, I don’t want to be that person. I’m gonna be better for her. Make her love me again like she did before.”

Bucky peered at Steve, cracking his neck with a simple side to side movement.

“She already does, Steve. Stop trying to be a hero. You already are one.”

Steve placed his arms on the table, that same look of determination in his eye as he had at the Stark Expo so long ago.

“She needs me and I’m gonna help her.”

“Whatever, man,” Bucky relented, finishing his beer and tossing it into the recycle bin. He hadn’t come over to argue He’d come over to try and talk some sense into Steve, to get him to take the job that was offered and to let him know that Bruce hadn’t stopped trying to find a way to fix him.

“You don’t know what I’m going through and I don’t expect you to. But she’s all I have. You and Sam are running the team now,” Steve admonished, his voice acidic. “I see it. Every email, any correspondence goes to you two. I don’t exist anymore.”

“Dr. Cho said you needed time. That’s why we haven’t put you on any communication. We aren’t trying to push you out.”

“I don’t care what she said! It was my team before…” Steve threw up his hands in the air in defeat as he trailed off.

“Before it was anyone else’s. I get it, Steve. This team doesn’t belong to anyone. We belong to each other. That’s what a team is. You know why I was worried about you going through that program? To make you the ultimate super soldier? It wasn’t because I didn’t think you were deserving. You were. You still are. It was because deep down, you still felt self-important enough to do it, even if it ripped you to shreds.” There were tears in Bucky’s eyes and Steve looked down in defeat.

“But it didn’t.”

“It didn’t have to. Whatever was in that bottle never mattered to me. It sure as hell didn’t matter to her. You’re Steven Grant Rogers to me and to her. That little guy who hated bullies? You’re becoming one.”

Bucky got up from his chair and down the hallway, intent on seeing if you were still asleep. He’d tell you his goodbyes and to put some distance between himself and his best friend until he came to his senses.

“Where are you going?” Steve demanded. “Bucky, I said she was sleeping.”

Steve followed behind him, watching Bucky open the door as he watched you sleep. You looked peaceful and serene and Bucky nodded in relief. Maybe Steve needed to take care of you.

“I told you,” Steve hissed, closing the door back. “I can take care of her. She’s my wife.”

“I know that. Just forget I came, Steve.”

Bucky made his way back to the door, letting himself out.

At the close of the door, Steve stood in the living room alone, a low wheeze in his chest at his deep breaths.


	5. Chapter 5

“Do you ever think of the time?”

Strange’s question took you by surprise, his eyes trained on your face. Another visit, another chance to relive the memories that you didn’t want to think of.

“In general?”

“More specifically, do you find yourself thinking of what transpired while you were gone? Do you wonder what you missed?” His hand rolled in a circle, a hint for you to expand.

For you, time had begun to meld from the lightest pinks of the sun rising to the dark violet of twilight that seemed to pass within a blink of an eye. You hadn’t begun to process the gap of time between the snap and now.

As you understood now, time was a fragile subject.

Strange lifted an eyebrow, his chin rising up slowly. You noticed the flecks of white in his goatee, the salt and pepper of his hair. You hadn’t known him prior to the snap and you wondered if time had aged him physically, as well.

“You have to reconcile with it. Some don’t. They jump to the euphoria of being alive, grateful for something that was already going to be in their favor.” Strange scoffed at the mention, shaking his head before he continued. “I saw the outcome. There was only one choice. Kismet, my ass. It was already decided.”

His famous ego was on display, loud and clear for you to witness. His fingers shook briefly as he pressed them down on the table.

“Did you lose anyone?” you asked, breaking his bravado.

He blinked twice, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down as he nodded.

“More like, she lost me. She moved on, much like the rest of the world.”

His voice is low, restrained in a way you aren’t used to. This is only your second visit to this historic house, the office wide and spacious but placed with enough artifacts and books that give you the urge to ask questions outside of what you are here for.

“I’m sorry.” Your apology feels flat. You’ve done so much of that lately. Apologizing to Steve every chance you could. To the people who called to check on him as you told another lie that he was busy or asleep as the documentaries seemed to continue in the background on an endless loop.

“Everyone is, aren’t they? You. Me. The whole damn rest of the world who survived and those that disappeared and came back, wishing they could have been there. I can tell you what happened while you were gone. But you need to be in the right state of mind to hear it. Are you?”

You licked the corners of your lips, your heart beating quicker than before. It had taken you days to recover from whatever you’d come down with and you had started to finally feel human again.

“How?” you asked, after the ticking of the clock filled the space for a moment.

“I have my ways. You didn’t answer my question. Do you wonder what you missed? What people did when you were gone? Do you want to go down that path to see the grief? I ask you again. Are you in the right state of mind, given everything you’ve gone through in the past week and a half, are you able to digest and understand what transpired?”

At the word grief, your eyes filled with tears, the creak of the leather whining under your fingers at the pressure of your fingers digging into the material.

“You aren’t ready,” Strange summed up, his expression soft.

At his denial, you tried to catch a stray tear that ran down your cheek before you whispered out your denial. You wanted to know but you weren’t sure if you were ready. Perhaps he had known that before you did. Still, you wanted to protest anyway, hoping to change his mind.

“No, wait, I’m just-”

“It would be careless of me to ignore the tears that are in your eyes. I can be a bastard at times, I know that. But I’m not heartless,” Strange sighed, drawing in a shaky breath. “Not anymore. Next session, perhaps.”

You rose to your feet, trying to nod in understanding as the disappointment fueled another set of tears that were waiting to fall.

As your hand touched the doorknob, you sighed, turning your head to face him for a moment.

“You asked me if I wonder what I missed,” you began, swallowing hard to push down the lump in your throat. “I do. All the time.”

🧬

As cold as it was outside, you were grateful for the walk, the sky blue without a hint of a cloud. The walk back to the apartment meant you could have taken a taxi but you preferred the walk. Your eyes took in the brownstones, the cracks in the pavement, and the polished brass numbers on the sides of buildings. Little details that you’d come to appreciate now that you had nothing left but to appreciate the world you’d returned to.

You passed by a coffee shop and you slowed your steps and went in reverse to look at their offerings. You were used to your coffee maker and standard creamer, the staple that seemed to be a luxury now as Steve had warned that coffee could have made you sicker. He’d since switched to a stronger herbal tea that seemed to calm your stomach and your nerves, but you wanted something more caffeinated.

Once you pulled open the door, you inhaled the rich aroma of the coffee beans before a familiar voice called out to you.

Sitting down with a book and a cup, Bucky lifted his hand to you with a smile.

“What are you doing around here?” he asked, setting down his book while you scanned the hand-drawn calligraphy menu.

“Just finished a therapy visit.”

“Ah, right. Strange.”

Once you ordered, Bucky motioned to a chair across from him and you sat, studying his features for a moment. He looked as tired as you, maybe even more so. You’d come back to a job that was unsure what to do with you or the rest of the employees that had seemingly come back, offering you a month-long leave. You had nothing better to do but to rest. For Bucky, the world hadn’t stopped after he had returned.

“Have you been sleeping?” you asked, almost accusatory as a smile crept up on his lips.

“Not really. Tried to but…” he motioned with his hand around his head. “A lot going on, you know?”

You mouthed an appreciative thank you to the barista that sets your drink down, the pads of your fingers reaching out to touch the sides as the heat travels down your fingers.

“I’m surprised Steve wasn’t with you,” Bucky continued. “Been worried about the two of you.”

“He doesn’t come with me to see Strange. Pepper said it’s best if we attend separately. Steve isn’t ready to talk to him.”

“Yeah, I doubt Steve is ready to talk to anyone,” Bucky responds bitterly. “The only one he ever listens to is himself.”

“That’s his usual way,” you tried to remind him with a small nod. Steve was always fearless in his pursuit of what was right.

Even when others thought he was wrong.

“He’s still struggling. So much he won’t reconcile with. Going back in time, heading back to the present-”

“He went back?” you asked, your eyes widening. Immediately, you feel like this was a secret that Bucky was not supposed to tell, his hands dropping to the table as his mouth works to form an explanation for the slip-up.

“He did. All of them did. It was a race to save the world. To save us. He and Tony ended up at the base where the serum was stored. Where it all began. He saw Peggy again. At a distance. Any tweaking with time could have ruined the future.”

“He saw Peggy.” It would always be a taboo subject, something you acknowledged was a part of Steve’s past. She’d been a part of his life before you had even been born, the impact she had on him lifelong that had continued even after she had passed. You’d allowed him the space to grieve, to say goodbye. It wasn’t your place to get involved and you remembered the day she was put to rest. How his voice had wavered, the wishing that things could have been different and that perhaps they were never meant to be together. She’d gone on with her life and Steve had finally found his footing, as he proclaimed when he alluded to his relationship with you.

The old emotions, the ones that you had affirmed to be nothing but a limited belief that you would never be good enough, slowly started to become a whisper in your brain as Bucky’s hand reached out to touch yours. Your eyes lowered to the touch and he nodded.

“Where did you go?”

You blinked, trying to understand what he was asking.

“Nowhere. Sorry. You were saying?”

“He saw Peggy. There was a picture of him when he was smaller on her desk. We talked about it when he was at the compound. He wondered if she liked him smaller. I didn’t read too much into it at the time but perhaps it’s always been there. That sense of being stuck in a body that doesn’t match your persona.”

You tilted the cup back up to your lips to avoid your frustrated stare, Bucky’s eyes searching yours for a moment.

“He used to get so mad when I would step in and help him. I should have known from the get-go that he’d never stop. Maybe deep down, I always knew. As silly as it sounds, I just knew where to find him, way back when. The little guy always running into fists, going toe to toe with guys twice his size and I knew every street where he’d fight. Fated to be his protector since we were six. Now he looks at me like I stole his life away from him.”

When he finished the last of his coffee, the sadness is back in his stormy blue eyes.

“I’d follow that punk to the ends of the earth again. But this? The way he’s been acting? I can’t follow. I’m debating putting him back onto the communications chain again, despite Dr. Cho telling me to wait. It’s killing me. I want to see him happy again, instead of chasing some quick fix. Dr. Banner isn’t even sure he can recreate the serum yet. There’s just… hope. Hope isn’t going to bring back that body he wants, or that sense of superiority. You know that too, don’t you? You need to be careful.”

Bucky’s head snapped to attention at the door opening, his hand removing from your own as footsteps approach.

“I was looking for you,” you heard Steve say, your gaze meeting his.

His cheeks were red from the cold, his nose as well as he shivered in his jacket.

“I tried to call you. Didn’t mean to interrupt your coffee date,” Steve clipped. “You’re still on the mend from being sick.”

“Relax, Steve,” Bucky said gently. “She was coming from Strange’s and ran into me.”

At the realization, Steve let out a long sigh as you stared into the half-empty cup. The pain in your stomach was returning, the dread of what was to come already in your mind.

“Is that coffee?” Steve asked suspiciously. “You know that isn’t good for you. You’ll get nauseous again.”

“She’s fine, Steve,” Bucky countered, Steve’s hand outstretched for you to take. “You could come and sit too, you know.”

“It’s bad enough I ventured out here to find her. Look at her, Buck. She looks out of it. You should have called me when you saw her like this.”

“I’m fine,” you argued gently, placing your hand in his. “The session was Strange was a little more involved than I anticipated.”

“All the more reason we need to get you home. Rest.”

At the sound of the world, you blinked back more tears. You didn’t want to rest. You wanted to continue to walk, to finish the cup of coffee that was in front of you.

“I don’t want to rest. Steve, I’m fine.”

At the vehemence in your tone, Steve narrowed his eyes at you.

“Fine,” he snapped, letting go of your hand. “I’ll go back home by myself. Sounds like you don’t need me after all. Not when you’ve got a stronger person around to help you.”

He pulled away from you so quickly that you tried to reach for his jacket and missed. The chair rumbled against the floor as you gave Bucky a sympathetic look.

He was halfway down the sidewalk when you caught up with him, the exertion of running making you out of breath.

“Steve, please. Just wait,” you pleaded, taking deeper breaths. “I’m sorry.”

You weren’t prepared for the tears in his eyes as he turned around. Bundled up in his jacket, he shoved his hands into his pockets, his eyes downcast as his hair fell over his forehead.

“You know how that felt? Like I was back in the 40’s, watching my best friend step in and be the protector that I should be. Why don’t you go back to him? Finish that cup of coffee. Maybe take a walk in the park.”

At his suggestions, you bit back a cry, shaking your head rapidly.

“I don’t,” you gasped, your tears continuing to fall. “I don’t want him. I need you, Steve. Please, let’s go home. I’m sorry.”

The only sound left was of the passing cars down the street before he pulled a hand out of his pocket. You took his hand, cold to the touch as you gripped it.

“It’s you and me, right?” Steve asked, not looking in your direction as you saw his chest expand and contract under his coat.

“Always.”

🧬

By the time your head reached the pillow, you were exhausted. Steve had graciously made dinner but your appetite was not what it was, struggling through half of the mashed potatoes on your plate before you gave up.

“You’ve got to eat more,” Steve had urged you, helping you onto the bed.

When you felt him shift, you reached out to touch his hand, eyes still closed.

“Don’t go,” you murmured. “I just need to rest for a bit. Can you stay with me until I fall asleep?”

You let out a sigh of relief as his hand swept through the top of your hair.

“Of course I will. I’m always going to be here for you.”

You managed a small smile before you felt sleep come.

“My hero,” you praised sleepily.

You felt his lips against your forehead amid the deep inhale of his lungs.

“That’s right, sweetheart. Your hero.”


	6. Chapter 6

Steam swirled around you as your forehead pressed against the cool tile, your breaths labored as hunger pains crept through your stomach. You’d slept for days, waking only to find Steve hovering by the bedside, a glass of water in hand that you refused until he finally coerced you into taking three sips before you downed the entire glass. Whatever you had battled previously, the anxiety and the nerves that made you sick, Steve had made good on his promise to take care of you, nursing you back to health.

On the days you felt you couldn’t lift your head, he was there to prop up the pillows so that you could get comfortable. When the light that came in from the blinds was too bright for your tired, aching eyes, he closed them, pressing a cool and damp cloth to your face. In and out of your consciousness, you could swear he apologizes, his lips against your temple before he slips away before you surrender to sleep.

But your strength was back and with it, another appointment with Dr. Strange. It felt strange to leave the house, Steve watching you collect your things as you went into the bathroom to shower. He offered to walk with you, despite the unfavorable weather. You took it as a sign that he was willing to compromise and you accepted his offer without hesitation.

You knew Strange would ask if you were ready to see the past. You did want to see what had happened while you were gone. The thought had become a priority in your brain with every waking moment, wondering how the man you had left behind had coped with so much loss to the man that you’d left behind in the bedroom, the same blue eyes that you’d fallen in love with watching you move carefully around the space that had changed drastically once the world had finally come back together.

Once the last of the soap had been washed from your body, you circled a towel around you as you stepped out, examining your face in the mirror. Dark smudges under your eyes were now a constant and you opened your makeup bag to search in vain for a concealer, holding up a tube that had expired over three years ago. At the sight of it, you tore through the rest of the contents, tossing everything in the trash as emotion overwhelmed you. You wanted all of it gone, no reminders of the past that you had missed. Too much to reminisce about without knowing the entire story.

The knock at the door snapped you back to reality as your hands laid flat on the counters, your head bowed.

“Are you okay in there?” Steve’s voice was filled with concern. “Do you need me to help you?”

“I-I’m okay, just throwing some things away,” you replied, staring at the mess of powder and blush dust that colored the sink as you turned on the faucet, watching it swirl around and down the drain. One day, when you felt up to braving a store, you’d browse the makeup aisles once more. For now, you would take your appearance as an affirmation that you were a survivor.

🧬

You’re aware of how Steve guides you away from the outside of the sidewalk, your arm tucked under his. His habit of wearing a baseball cap is one that has taken getting used to. He hasn’t been recognized - everyone believes that the man they know as Captain America is holed up somewhere in the Avengers compound, helping them rebuild - instead of at your side, shivering from the cold as he walks with you to Strange’s office.

“I’ll wait for you outside his office,” Steve promises as you both walk up the steps.

He’d been hovering since the day you had lost your appetite, too weak to move hours later. Whatever had happened had made him extra cautious, the sickness that had appeared to rear its ugly head. Even with your strength back, you let him help you, his hard grunt of effort echoing as he opened the heavy door.

“Captain,” Dr. Strange greeted, Steve’s face twisting into a scowl. You were unsure why the sudden change in his demeanor but you were silent, Strange turning his attention on you. “Are you ready for your session?”

“Yes,” you answered, watching Steve adjust his coat.

“Make yourself comfortable, Captain. This will be a lengthier session than usual.”

You don’t see Steve as the door closes, Strange looking back for a moment as he raises an eyebrow.

“What happened?” you asked, Strange taking his seat as he smirked.

“I had no control over the events that transpired,” Strange began to explain, leaning back into his seat. “He blames me for Tony and Natasha. For him being the size he is now. I could only see what was going to occur. One outcome out of many. The only one that was favorable for the masses.”

You were silent, unsure of what to say.

“You look terrible,” Strange continued on. “Did you give yourself time to think about what I asked? Because it doesn’t look like you’ve slept.”

“I’ve been sick,” you countered, your fingers gripping the armrests. “But I have thought about it.”

Strange leaned forward, his eyes narrowing at you.

“Are you sure? You need to be in the right mindset for what you will see.”

You swallowed hard at his reply, your chin dipping as you nodded.

“I’m ready. I want to see.”

You aren’t prepared for the red cloak that seems to float past and settles onto Strange’s shoulders, your eyes wide with shock as he shakes his head.

“You need to get used to it. Otherwise, you won’t last in the past.”

You spy a green glow from the pendant around his neck.

“The stones were all put back,” you replied, your eyes focused as he held it within his slightly trembling fingers.

“The time stone always needs a guardian. That is the way of the world. We may never see a threat like Thanos again but the time is precious to all.”

You find yourself moving forward in your seat as the glow gets brighter.

“We keep out of view, do you understand? Anything you see, you can’t interact with. This isn’t like a movie. People can see you. Whatever you do in the past may not alter our present but it will change the future. Stay close to me at all times.”

He motions for you to stand, your eyes looking back at the closed door.

“Wong will keep the Captain busy. We’ll be gone for what seems like ten minutes. For us, it will be much longer. Are you ready?”

Once you get to his side, his hands make a motion that unlocks the pendant and a yellow circle opens up with a whip of his hand.

“Step through and you’ll see for yourself what happened what happened to the Captain when the world collapsed.”

🧬

You recognized the apartment, the drapes closed as Strange pressed an arm in front of you to keep you from taking a step from outside the closet inside your bedroom.

“He can’t see us,” Strange said quietly. “He won’t come in here so be quiet.”

You blinked at the sight of Steve, in his bigger body, his beard longer than when you had left him. In his hands, you can see him holding a photo of you both on your wedding day, tears falling onto the glass, his thumb wiping away the drops as you heard a sniffle. His shoulders were slumped forward, his posture one of a broken man.

The sound broke your heart as you felt tears stream down your cheek.

Natasha stood in the entryway, watching Steve as she crossed her arms over her chest.

“Thought I’d find you in here,” she greeted him, his gaze still on the photo.

“I don’t want to sell the place,” Steve told her, his voice thick with emotion. “I came in here and I don’t want anyone else to set foot in here. This is where we slept. She used to look out of that window every morning to see what the weather was like.”

A wave of emotion took hold and Steve placed the picture back down onto the nightstand.

“We can bring her back, Steve. We can bring them all back. We just can’t give up.”

“I’m not tossing her clothes, Nat. I’m not emptying out her drawers, I’m not doing any of it.” Steve’s breaths came in hard pants as Natasha’s arms circled his broad shoulders. “I’m not erasing her. When she comes back, she’ll need them. She’ll need me.”

“No one said you had to,” Natasha whispered, your nose stuffy with emotion as Strange kept his eyes trained on them. You saw it then, the brief touching of her lips against his as you turned away.

“You don’t have to erase her. She’s right here,” Natasha thumped in the middle of his chest. “I know it seems like you’re alone… that we’re all alone.”

When she reached forward to kiss him again, Steve grabbed her hand, his head shaking.

“I feel it too, Nat. But I can’t. It feels wrong.”

With a hard sigh, you saw her nod slowly, getting up before she circled the room. You and Strange hidden while she walked over to the window.

“I shouldn’t have done that. My emotions are getting the best of me.” Natasha opened the drapes wider to the sun as light poured into the room.

“I’m gonna go stay at the compound. I can’t sleep here, it’s too much,” Steve admitted, grabbing his leather jacket from the bed as he shrugged it on. “I’ll try again tomorrow. Maybe I can wash the dishes. I was always bad at loading the dishwasher.”

“Then you do the dishes,” Natasha affirmed, placing her hand on his cheek. “It’ll be okay. I’ll see you at the compound.”

When the door closed, Steve’s anger and sadness finally bubbled over, a cry of anguish broke from his lips as his fist connected with the wall. When he pulls back, tears spill over his cheeks, his fingers broken before he sets them back into place. The load-bearing post is cracked, broken beyond a quick repair.

It’s only until he has left that you exhaled loudly, your heart still thumping as you replayed their kiss over and over in your mind.

“If my calculations are correct, he came home every night for at least a year until he got another place. Pepper stepped in and had cleaners come. He’d come back here from time to time. Still never touched any of your things.”

You blinked back more tears as you nodded.

“And Natasha?”

“From what I can tell, that was it. You were gone, remember? You ceased to exist.”

Even though he had a point, the shock of seeing it still bothered you and you tried to brush it away.

“We aren’t finished yet,” Strange reminded you.

🧬

The apartment that Steve kept was small, a studio that you moved around in slowly. Pictures of you lined a wall, including love notes you’d written him while he was away.

“Who knew he was a sentimental being?” Strange asked, standing behind you as he looked over your shoulder. “You said he never made time for you. I see the regret on this wall. Maybe he knew that too.”

Your fingers reached out to touch the glossy photos, settling on one where you were sitting alone on a park bench.

“He has a way with photography,” Strange said dryly. “Riveting.”

Your fingers trailed to the other photos on the wall, stopping at one the night before he had left for Wakanda. Before the world changed.

“I asked him to take me with him.” The sorrow in your throat rose at the thought of how adamantly he had denied your request. “Would that have changed anything?”

“What are you asking me?”

“Thanos decimated half of the world’s population. If I would have gone, would that have changed who was wiped out?”

Strange does not answer, leaving your question hanging in the air. You are aware that the silence does not come easily for him, your head turned as you stared.

“You know everything.”

“I know what the time stone shows me. It can’t show me a past that doesn’t exist.”

“But you could create it,” you suggested, watching his face twist into a frown.

“What would that prove? That you wouldn’t be snapped? If not you, it would have been someone else. Look around you. You see a man mourning his wife. I see a man remorseful for the fact that he couldn’t save the people he cared about, no matter how hard he tried. He’d lived his life saving others but couldn’t save the one person that he thought he’d come home to. When people take others for granted, you get hurt in the end. Grief makes people go crazy.”

“He’s making up for lost time,” you insisted, Strange tapping his fists together as another circle appeared to take you back to the present. “He’s not himself but he’s getting better.”

“When I said you, I didn’t mean _him_.”


	7. Chapter 7

Once you were back inside the apartment, you shrugged off your coat as Steve rubbed his hands together, turning on the heat.

You were still numb from your trip with Strange, heading into the kitchen as you opened the fridge to make lunch.

You chopped up vegetables mindlessly as you thought about him and Natasha. You were unsure of how you felt, knowing that he had said it was too soon. As you dropped the vegetables into the pan, you moved around the kitchen, adding a few additional ingredients as you stirred the pot.

You remember Strange’s silence when you had asked if you would have taken someone else’s place.

“Steve,” you called out, pulling out plates as you doled out the meat and vegetables. “Lunch is done.”

You heard him come in as you cleaned up, hearing the fork scrape lightly against the plate.

“You’ve been quiet,” Steve spoke up. “Ever since we left Strange’s office. Everything okay?”

“Just tired. We went through a lot of the past. Trying to fill in the gaps that I wasn’t here for.”

“Why?”

You shrugged.

“I wanted to see what changed.”

“Did you get your answer?” he asked you. You felt his eyes on you before you turned around to sit across from him.

“A little bit. Talked about you for a little. Natasha too.”

Steve’s eyes met yours as the expression on his thin face changed.

“What about her?”

“I know she never came back but you never talk about her. How was it? When I was gone… did you ever talk to her about me?”

“I couldn’t talk to anyone about you. They wouldn’t understand. Clint could. He was married. I felt like talking about you would just make it worse.”

“Why?”

“Because we just… we never did,” Steve said finally.

“Just what? Tell me. I’m listening.”

“She wasn’t interested in hearing about people having lives outside of us. We were Avengers. We weren’t supposed to have families.”

“You were her family,” you pointed out, as Steve took a bite of his food.

The dining room was shrouded in silence as he chewed, your eyes looking down at your plate.

“We all were. Nat just didn’t get it. It was even worse when everyone was snapped. She didn’t have Clint, he went haywire. Didn’t come back until we knew there was a chance. But she had me.”

“I’m sure she was there for you.”

“Yeah,” Steve agreed. “She was. She would have understood why I’m upset at where I’m at now. In this breakable body. She would have talked me through it, like we used to when the world was upside down.”

You placed your fork back down on your plate, wiping your mouth gently as you fought back the emotions that seemed to overwhelm you out of nowhere.

“And when the world wasn’t upside down?”

“She was Nat. She always understood. I don’t want to talk about it anymore. You don’t get it.”

“I’m glad she’s gone,” you muttered, pushing away from the table before you stood up. “I get that. She always understood you.”

“She was there before you! Always was. I could count on her when I needed someone. Nat was all I had left. When I came back after we got the stones, she was gone. Everyone was brought back except her. First it was Peggy and then Bucky. Then he came back and then it was Nat and then Tony. I thought I’d at least have her.”

You were silent as Steve covered his face with his hands at his heated reply. You blinked back tears, setting your fork back down on your plate.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t enough for you, Steve,” you responded quietly, pushing away from the table as you picked up your dishes.

“That’s not what I meant,” Steve argued, slumping into his chair.

“Did you have feelings for her?”

At the silence, you placed your things in the sink, acknowledging what the silence meant.

“I’m going to bed.” Your voice was devoid of emotion as you walked past him, your limbs heavy as you crossed the living room.

You heard your name being called as you closed the door, locking it as you heard him coming.

“Go away, Steve. I need to be alone.”

“Can you just let me explain?” he asked behind the door. “We were all alone. I didn’t know if you were coming back. I didn’t know if we could even have people come back. There was so much loss.”

Even as you said the words, you could feel yourself losing control.

“Maybe it would be better if she and I had traded places. You could have someone you need.”

“Don’t do that,” Steve ordered. “Please, just open the door.”

“No.” You swallowed hard, looking at the empty spaces on the walls. “You spoke your truth, Steve. Just let it be.”

You stared at the wall, still replaying the kiss and his words swirling in your mind until the sun began to set. Your eyes burned, your body still heavy with tiredness as you closed your eyes.

Maybe it was time to think about yourself. You’d tried to help, to make sure that he was adjusted to a life that you understood was rough for him.

The fact that he hadn’t denied how he had felt made you realize that perhaps things had changed since the snap. Strange had said that it was the first and last time Natasha and Steve were in that state of mind.

You hadn’t seen him mourn her, only that she had never returned, leaving only Clint who had come back.

Steve hadn’t even been happy to see you.

With a low sigh, you pressed your face into your pillow to muffle your sobs.

🧬

“Hey,” a voice breaks you out of your sleep as you open your eyes slowly.

Bucky stands in front of you, a sympathetic smile playing on his lips.

“It’s okay,” he soothed, watching your frown. “Steve’s with Banner.”

Bucky sits at the end of the bed, running a hand through his hair as he sighed.

“Banner thinks he may have found a breakthrough with some fragments of the serum. It’s hopeful but no promises yet. Steve’s gotta give some blood samples to see how the serum will react once he has a viable sample.”

“Good for him,” you answer, Bucky’s head turning as his eyes narrow at you.

“What happened?”

“Did you know he had feelings for Natasha? I asked him and all I got was silence.”

Bucky blew out a breath.

“I think when you spend time with people for a long period of time, the lines get blurred and sometimes the feelings you have for someone else can be misconstrued. I don’t think he would ever have acted on whatever feelings he had. But I know that they weren’t as strong as the ones he had for you. He loves you.”

“I wish I could believe that,” you answered, your voice wavering with emotion. “He’s consumed with being who he used to be.”

“I know.”

“Maybe he should stay at the compound,” you suggested. “Maybe he would do better there.”

“You don’t mean that.”

“I do,” you replied bitterly, exhaustion taking over as you laid back onto the pillows. “I wanted us to work but it’s not…working…”

Bucky was next to you within seconds, his wrist encircling yours.

“Your heart rate is low,” Bucky murmured. “We need to get you to a doctor.”

“I just need water,” you tried to protest, Bucky lifting you into his arms.

“You need a doctor.”


	8. Chapter 8

In a twist of fate, Bucky kept watch at your door as Steve rounded the corner, nearly tripping over his feet as he stopped in his tracks at the sight of his best friend. The tick in Bucky’s jaw continued as Steve glanced at the closed door and back at him. Under different circumstances, the conversation would have been much smoother and Bucky more willing to engage than his protective stance at the door.

“Is she okay?” Steve’s voice was thin, his inhaler in his hand as his fingers shook. “I came as soon as I got the call.”

“I don’t know yet. They’re running a lot of tests.”

Steve attempted to open the door but was blocked by Bucky’s metal arm that kept him in place, his hand splayed over Steve’s frail chest.

“No.”

“Buck, what are you doing?” Steve glared up at him. “She’s my wife. I need to see her.”

“I said no. Not now.”

“Are they in there with her?”

Bucky shook his head, his hand pressing hard to get Steve to take a step back.

“What’s going on? Tell me,” Steve urged, his face twisted with worry.

“You, Steve. You’re what’s going on.”

“What are you talking about?”

The hard shove into the wall left Steve startled, his hands wrapping around Bucky’s arm as a nurse looked on in surprise, her eyes on Bucky. Despite his struggle to remove it, he gave up, huffing in irritation as the nurse shuffled away.

“Tell me you didn’t do it,” Bucky warned, his voice lowered so that only Steve could hear. “Tell me that they aren’t going to find anything.”

“Find what?”

“Whatever the hell you’ve been giving her. She could barely stand, let alone keep her eyes open. If this is you trying to play the hero, you’ve already turned yourself into the same guys that you once fought against. What the fuck are you doing? These doctors may not know but I know. I know you, Steve. This guy? I don’t know him. This whole thing… it’s warped your mind.”

“You don’t know what I’m going through.”

Bucky scoffed bitterly, removing his hand from Steve’s chest as his fingers flexed.

“Identity crisis? Sure, I wouldn’t know anything about that,” Bucky reminded him.

“How did she get here?” Steve’s glare is full of suspicion, mouth set into a frown. “You came into our house?”

“You gave me a key, Steve. I’ve been trying to call you both for the past week, no answer. I knew you weren’t going to tell me the truth and lo and behold, there she is, a shell of herself on a bed in the guestroom. What did you tell her about Natasha?”

“I’m not rehashing the past, Bucky. I just want to move forward.”

“What did you tell her? Because that’s all she could talk about. She feels that she should have swapped lives with Natasha. Your wife thinks you would be better off with a friend. Were you friends? Or something more?”

Steve raked a hand through his hair, sniffling at the emotion that had rushed through him. All hurt, all remembrance of a time he was trying to forget.

“It was a brief kiss, okay? Caught up in the moment and I pushed her away. She wanted comfort and I tried to give it to her in a way that I knew how but it wasn’t going to be enough for what Nat wanted. I couldn’t…. I couldn’t ruin my marriage.”

“Why didn’t you tell her the truth?”

“Because I’m broken! You happy?” Steve shouted, his hands shoving Bucky away. “I want to be myself again. She looks at me with this pity in her eyes and I hate it because I feel what she sees every day. I can’t breathe without this damn inhaler, the doctors count the days until I end up in the hospital. People don’t give me a second glance down the street. My own team shut me out. You shut me out. All I had left was her and even then she started to pull away. I can’t lose her too.”

“You already are!” Bucky shot back, the echo of his voice reverberating down the hall. “Give it up. Stop this chasing, stop wishing you could be something different. Because you are someone different and it’s scaring me and it’s killing her. I thought when she came back I was protecting you. I saw how it affected you and I wanted to shield you from whatever bad came your way. Like I always did. But this…”

Bucky wiped the tears from his eyes with a hard shake of his head, lips tightened as he took a step back to breathe and calm himself.

“Whatever serum Banner has… you don’t deserve it. Go home and think about what you’re doing. Think about her for once. But you can’t stay here. I’m sorry.”

Steve’s hand ran down his thin face before he nodded, glassy eyes blinking before he finally pushed himself from the wall, his coat billowing out behind him as he walked away.

🧬

The coffee table went flying across the room, the sound of broken glass from a photo frame catching his attention as he bent down to pick up the picture. A perfect couple, full of love and hopeful for the future, Steve’s arm around your waist as you gazed into his eyes. It was a candid photo, caught by Sam during Bucky’s speech. Steve had always thought you had been beautiful but that day, on your wedding, he couldn’t stop looking at you in awe.

When he turned the picture over, there was your writing, beautiful cursive in a blue inked pen, the date almost a month after you had gotten your photos back from Clint.

_For our highs and inevitable lows, I’ll love you no matter who you are. Big and strong, soft and frail, Captain America or Steven Grant Rogers. I’ll take you all._

He didn’t notice when the glass dug into his knees as he sank down into the carpet, painfully hot tears leaking from his eyes before a strangled sob rendered him mute. The gasp that he inhaled was sharp, his chest nearly caving into itself as the photo fluttered back to the ground as he wrapped his arms around himself.

It had gone so wrong and so fast. He had half a mind to call the police, turn himself in and just let it all go. It was what he deserved.

The apartment is in shambles, Steve’s strained breathing the only sound inside the space. His fingers trickled up to his chain, enclosing on the wedding ring that you’d stressed over finding because you wanted to make sure he could wear it without breaking it. When the missions were over and he was back in his regular clothes, it was the first thing he slipped on, without question.

Now he was alone, even more alone than when you had been snapped. The jealousy that bubbled up over seeing Bucky watching over you had taken its toll. He was supposed to be your protector and now you needed protection from him. Everything Bucky had said had been right.

His thoughts went to Wakanda, before the wedding and before the fight came. It had been Bucky who had noticed that Steve had been weary, tired from what the world was when he left it and to when he came back.

“We’re old,” Bucky had reminded him, taking a long walk back over the rolling hills. “Our bodies may not look like it but our minds are warped. What used to be isn’t anymore. You have to train yourself to look in the mirror and be okay with change. Not everything is always going to be the same.”

If there was ever a constant in his life, it had always been Bucky. Even when he was gone, thought to be dead, Steve still thought about him. What they would be doing with their lives at each decade. If Bucky would ever marry or have children. When he came back, Steve had poured his heart and soul, even almost giving his life for Bucky if it meant that he was safe.

Bucky had come back and done the same, standing watch at his door when he was small again, frail and vulnerable to the outside world that had never truly been kind to him.

They had always had each other.

Then, he had you.

The past tense made him shudder, salty tears reaching the bottom of his red lip as he drew it inside his mouth. The mess he had made needed to be cleaned up. As if this never happened.

His gaze went down to his pants, the knees dotted with blood as he wiped the shards of glass from them as he got to his feet. Steve wandered down the hallways, into the guest bedroom where she had slept - almost a full day since he’d hurt you. Again.

With a flick of the light, he searched around the small closet, eyes settling on the boxes that had been hidden away from view. Once the top box was opened, Steve took a step back at the sight of his clothes, carefully folded and packed away as he pulled out a black and white button down that ended near his knees. The swallowing of the lump in his throat was painful, sifting through more clothes before the box was tossed aside, another one underneath that was begging to be opened.

More pictures were unearthed, the sight of them a shock as he sat on the pile of discarded clothes, sifting through the photo albums that she’d kept - the ones he’d asked Bucky to take down and throw away.

In a photo, your finger smudging a bit of ice cream on his nose, Steve tried to mimic the expression of his bigger body before he sighed, flipping through more pictures until an envelope slipped out. Holding it in his hands, he knew exactly what it was.

On the eve of your wedding day, when he couldn’t stop thinking about how this was going to change his life, he wrote you a letter, providing every single detail of how you made him feel. What you meant to him. Deep down, he expected to be caught, to be thrown into prison and potentially experimented on. The amount of laws he’d broken to extract Bucky and get him away from Ross had been so numerous that he had stopped counting.

He thought of the letter when they faced Thanos, hoping that you would remember him as a good man. Someone who fought for what he believed in.

That was before. He couldn’t bring himself to think about where he was now, even if he was living it, alone in this space like he was after the snap. Losing much more than his sense of self.

He’d lost you.

The final box was one he didn’t want to open, marked only as ‘Cap’. He couldn’t refer to himself like that anymore. Not since everything had transpired.

The phone in his pocket buzzed loudly, his hand plunging into his pockets to fish it out as he placed it to his ear.

“Hello?”

The voice on the other end sighed dramatically.

“Steven. It’s Strange. I was wondering if you could come by the office.”

“Now isn’t a good time,” Steve admitted, wiping his eyes. “Busy.”

“I think it’s a great time. I’ll see you within the hour.”

Before he could reply, the click of a phone greeted him, leaving him in silence.


End file.
